


Serpent

by raewise



Series: the way you sing off key [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Neutral Lone Wanderer, Other, Polyamory, Post-Fallout 4, The Railroad, permanent hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raewise/pseuds/raewise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lone Wanderer Lucy-Jane joined the Railroad in 2277, after saving A3-21. After the Nuclear Option, she's transferred to the Commonwealth as a heavy agent. There she meets legendary Agent Charmer, a vaguely familiar spy named Deacon, some punk kid she used to know, and powerful new enemies. Just because the Institute's been destroyed doesn't mean the Railroad's job is done.</p><p>Set after the Rizzo Chronicles.</p><p>PERMANENT HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: this chapter contains vulgar language, mentions of sex and masturbation, and descriptions of gore

Lucy-Jane was used to watching out for Butch at this point. He always managed to forget to scan his rear, always pressing forwards. But with Charon watching her back, she felt at ease. 

The landscape of the Commonwealth was different from the Capital Wasteland. While D.C. was far stretches of nuclear desert with the occasional crumbled monument, endless metro tunnels infested with ferals, and a city that was hardly any more than dust and super mutants, the Commonwealth was grassy and had  _ trees _ . The buildings stood upright, someone obviously having tried to put them back together with some success. All in all the region was colourful in a way Lucy-Jane had never experienced before.

After the Institute was defeated, the Railroad found themselves with more synths in the system than there had ever been before. And with a hell of a lot less agents. Apparently they only had two senior agents (a heavy and a spy) left at HQ--where Lucy-Jane was headed now. Someone needed to help place the synths.

Lucy-Jane joined the Railroad back in '77, after sending Dr. Zimmer on his way. She'd been nursing a beer in the Muddy Rudder when Victoria Watts slid onto the stool next to her.

"You said you were interested in joining the cause," the woman had said in a low voice. 

Lucy-Jane looked at her from the corner of her eye. Usually she would've asked what was in it for her, but instead she realized she  _ wanted  _ to help. May as well clean her slate with a few good deeds, and this was a cause she could get behind.

And so she was given a position as a catcher, someone who placed synths within the Capital Wasteland. She also kept tabs on them to make sure no coursers were sniffing at their tails. After a year of staying in Rivet City, dealing with that pompous Pinkerton, Victoria Watts just disappeared. Lucy-Jane still didn't know what had happened to the woman, whether she had returned to the Commonwealth or if she'd been the victim of a violent crime. After a while Lucy-Jane stopped thinking about it. Just another soul swallowed by the Wastes.

Up ahead, Bunker Hill visible on the next block, the white slashing through deep blue sky like a middle finger to the apocalypse. Lucy-Jane smiled at the idea, holstering her shotgun and motioning for Charon to do the same. Butch was too busy whistling a tuneless song to himself and smiling at his reflection in shop windows to even have his pistol drawn. Probably for the best, he clung to the thing like it was a life preserver and he’d been tossed into the deep sea, and Lucy-Jane had been warned that security at Bunker Hill was tight. Couldn’t have one of her boyfriends pulling a gun out at a guard.

The brahmin let out one of those annoying two-headed honks, and Butch scowled at it. “Why did we bring this thing with us?” 

_ We’re posing as caravaneers, because I’ve been a member of a secret underground organization for the past eleven years and I’ve finally been promoted to heavy. Not that you know what that means. _

“To carry our supplies.”

Charon looked at her, the look in his eyes clearly not buying it.

Butch sighed, and they passed a white marking on the side of a building. She stopped, feeling her boyfriends’ eyes on her as she crouched down to look at it. Eight lines formed like a star around a cross. They were close.

Another block and they were looking at a tall wall made of junk and barbed wire, turrets chugging away. A woman stopped them at the gate.

“What’s your business here?” she asked, clearly someone in charge here.

“Caravan passing through. We have caps.”

The woman nodded, looking over the three. “I’m sure you do. Talk to Tony Savoldi, he should be at the inn--northwest. Wears a newsboy cap and blue jacket. He’ll rent you a couple beds.” She reached a hand out to Lucy-Jane, who shook it firmly. “Name’s Kessler, and I’m in charge around here. Welcome to Bunker Hill.”

Kessler opened the gate, letting the trio and their brahmin inside. They made their way to the brahmin pen and tied her reins to a post, making sure she could reach the feeding trough. Butch pat the creature on one of her heads while the other was busy chowing down.

Digging in her pockets for a cap-purse, she pulled one out that wasn’t too full. She handed it to Butch. “I’m gonna look around. Can you go rent us a room?”

“Sure thing, ring-a-ding.” He took the money, greedily counting out the caps as he loped away. The wrong way, Lucy-Jane noticed, but he’d figure it out eventually. 

“C’mon,” she said to Charon, who trailed behind her as she made her way inside the monument. Haggard merchants leaned against counters, their wares displayed behind them. She made her way over to the well-dressed old man with the hat, who smiled kindly at her.

“Excuse me, but do you have a geiger counter?” she asked, feeling very aware of Charon’s milky blue stare. 

His teeth were remarkably white. “Sorry, miss, but mine’s in the shop.”

He motioned for her to follow him, and he lead her outside the monument, to an area under a bridge. A woman passed them, but didn’t look twice at them. 

“I was told you’d be here soon. It’s good to meet you, Serpent. We’re very lucky to have you here with us. We have so many  _ packages _ that need transport.”

“How does it work, being a heavy?”

Old Man Stockton looked around them. Lucy-Jane fiddled with her Pip-Boy, like she was receiving directions. 

“You clear areas, escort cargo. You leave them with the designated caravans and they’re shipped off to the Capital Wastes. Mostly you’ll be transporting between here and Mercer, and I suppose doing extra work for HQ.”

She nodded. A bit of a difference between being a catcher and being a heavy. It was interesting to see how the process began, versus how it ended. 

“We’ve arranged for someone to escort you to Headquarters, so you can meet with Desdemona and talk to her a bit more thoroughly. Unfortunately, I don’t know where Headquarters is--privileged information--but the person coming, she knows exactly.”

“What’s her name?”

“Charmer, but call her Rizzo out here.” His voice had lowered considerably. “She’s the one who infiltrated the Big Bad, and ran the BoS out of Dodge.”

Lucy-Jane felt her heart speed up a bit. Rumours of Charmer had spread to the Capital already, only two months after the Institute was blown to hell and back. A lamenting mother, they said. A she-demon, they said. “The-best-damn-heavy-we’ve-ever-had,” they said. She took out the Brotherhood of Steel, leaving the sky on fire, and there was a massive crater supposedly left where CIT used to be. Charmer was chaotic and thorough and everything Lucy-Jane aspired to be as a new heavy.

“She should be here by tomorrow. Is your… companion cleared?” Old Man Stockton looked at Charon for a moment, then away.

“He will be soon enough. Leave it between Charmer and I.”

The old man shook her hand and said as he left, “I look forward to working with you, Serpent.”

“Likewise.”

As the old man rounded the corner, she turned her gaze to Charon, who was giving her a critical stare. She sighed through her nose, and muttered, “I’ll explain, I swear. Tomorrow we’ll meet Charmer and go to HQ and everything will make sense.”

“Are you in danger?” he asked, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. 

She found herself smiling softly. “Not any more than usual.” She traced the pads of her fingers across his rough knuckles. He touched the palm of her hand with his thumb, dragging it down to where her fingerless gloves ended and the soft skin of her wrist began. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” he said back, voice low and rumbly like how he knew she liked it. 

“Let’s get something to drink, then hit the hay, yeah?” Letting her hand go, he followed obediently behind her, watching her much shorter frame. 

At the inn, Butch had apparently gotten on pretty well with the young man behind the counter, Tony Savoldi laughing at some joke he was telling. His hands were doing windmills around himself as he gestured, blue eyes big and expressive as ever. Butch, despite everything (ie. his cowardice and dimwittedness), had a very specific set of skills. Story-telling, it so happened, was one of them. 

“And so this asshole’s sitting there, so damn full of himself--this ugly smug grin on his face as he started jacking it to his own diary. And Luce comes up behind him, pops him right in the temple! Brains went everywhere! His slave comes in to see what the gunshot was, but we were already gone out the back door. If he saw us he didn’t say shit about it--he was the new owner of the joint,” Butch said, whiskey spilling over the lip of his glass and onto the counter beneath him.

“Wow! You were never caught? Yikes, remind me not to mess with your old lady.” 

Lucy-Jane slipped onto the stool next to Butch, Charon crowding her other side. An older guy, probably Tony’s dad, shuffled over to serve her, wiping up Butch’s mess with a candid smile.

“Two beers,” she ordered, feeling Charon’s big hand rest between her shoulderblades. 

Butch leaned over and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek, and leaned bodily against her. He wasn’t drunk, not yet. But the way his hair hung too lax over his forehead and his teeth flashed told her he was feeling jolly, maybe even frisky. 

“The lady of the hour!” he proclaimed, forcing a blush onto her cheeks.

Tony Savoldi looked her up and down, clearly not as impressed as he had anticipated. She was five foot nothing, messy-haired. Her nose was too big for her little round face, eyes plain and brown. She wore green combat armour--a brand new suit as a parting gift from Reilly’s Rangers, and her Tunnel Snakes jacket that still swallowed her up. Butch had told her once she always looked like she’d just been sucking on a lemon, but he’d punctuated the insult with sweet soft kisses to her neck. 

Apparently Tony had been raised to have some manners, because he smiled at her anyway, shaking her hand. 

“Oh, man! You’ve gotta hear about the time she took down a deathclaw all on her own,” Butch said, and Tony’s eyes got big before he pulled his hand away from her like he’d been burned. 

Lucy-Jane yawned. “I’m going to sleep, bedbug. Come join us when you’re done, okay?” She didn’t touch him as she left even though she wanted to. Something about public displays of affection made her skin crawl, always had. She wasn’t very big on physical affection in the first place, but she made an exception for Butch and Charon. She’d had sex with the both of them, and she liked it enough, but it wasn’t something she thought about a lot. She didn’t see people and think about sex--ever. But if Butch asked, or Charon was getting all fidgety like he did, she was willing. She was thankful for her boys, and it made her feel good to make them feel good.

With Charon trailing behind her, she found a room of free mattresses. Not the most glamorous of accommodations, but she’d seen worse. Settling in, Lucy-Jane felt Charon’s big hand rest on top of her stomach, warm and just heavy enough to be comforting. He was so big compared to her. Putting one hand over his, she drifted off to sleep as Butch shuffled onto her mattress, breath smelling like booze.

She dreamed of a one-headed brahmin carrying her and her boys off into the sunset.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serpent's group meets Charmer's. Old acquaintances reunite, a firefight breaks out on the road, and Butch is very confused the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps from Lucy-Jane's perspective, to Charon's, to Butch's. Team Serpent go!

Lucy-Jane was busy trading with a gun-crazed merchant when she looked up to find she was being watched. The woman was tall, all hard muscles and shadows. Her face was covered in a blue bandana, head covered in a dusty old ushanka hat. The leather harness across her chest appeared to shimmer--chameleon armour. The woman nodded at her, the morning sunlight catching her eyeglasses. 

Agent Charmer.

“I’ll give it to you for 50 caps and a box of shotgun shells,” Lucy-Jane haggled, and the woman frowned before nodding, looking over the gun.

“Okay, okay. Are you interested in a missile launcher, though? All you Capital types are the same, just looking for off-loading. Where are the crazies looking for a mini nuke, am I right?”

Lucy-Jane forced a smile, taking her shells and caps and pocketing them. She nodded at Charmer and the woman followed her out to the same place she’d spoken to Old Man Stockton the day before. Charon was a constant, rotating on her axis, and Charmer appeared to have two bodyguards herself--one lanky man with a cap and a rifle, another man with sunglasses who was so perfectly average he was hardly worth mentioning.

“I’m sorry, miss. But do you have a geiger counter?” Charmer asked.

“Ah, shit. No, mine’s in the shop.”

Charmer thrust out a hand for her to shake. It was hard to not be intimidated by such a large woman, but Lucy-Jane slid her small hand into Charmer’s big one without hesitation. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Agent Serpent. I’m Charmer, but please. Call me Rizzo.”

“Lucy-Jane.” She looked sideways at Charon. “This is Charon. I have another companion with me; I hope that won’t be a problem.” 

“Well, I can’t really say shit about it. I bring unaffiliated people to HQ all the time. As long as they can be trusted with a secret, it should be fine.” 

Charon touched her shoulder, hand warm. A question. He wanted to know what the hell was going on here.

Lucy-Jane looked at him, then lowered her gaze. Trying not to let Charmer see her anxiety, she muttered to him, “It’s not safe here. I’ll explain when we get to HQ. Can you go grab Butch? He’s by the brahmin.”

The sniper had been staring at her intently, and after she said ‘Butch’ his eyes got all big. “Holy shi--crap! You’re the Lone Wanderer, aren’t you?”

Blinking, Lucy-Jane said, “Been a while since anyone’s called me that.”

He grinned, and something about him felt awfully familiar. She’d seen those eyes before, but she couldn’t place them…

“You remember Little Lamplight? MacCready, at your service.” He stepped forwards, looking all giddy.

“Fucking hell, RJ. You shot up like a damn bean sprout didn’t you?” She was looking up at him, a foot taller than her. “How’ve you been?”

He shuffled his feet. “You know. I’m a mercenary now. Was married for a bit--with Lucy, remember her?” Lucy-Jane nodded. She was fond of the little medic, reminded of herself a bit. “She… passed away a couple years back. Made my way over to the Commonwealth after that, and Rizzo and I met in Goodneighbor. Been with her for a little over a year now.” He seemed happy, and healthy if a bit on the skinny side. Lucy-Jane had been to Little Lamplight recently to visit, and the only person left that she knew was Bumble, who’d grown up into a lovely young woman. Although she’d probably gone to live in Big Town by now, too.

“Good for you. Glad to see you’re still alive. I got worried sometimes, y’know.”

MacCready brightened at that, like a puppy being told he was a good dog. “Same for you, doc.”

“Doc?” Rizzo interrupted. “You’re a doctor?”

Lucy-Jane flushed under the gaze of the woman, and her shadowy companion in the shades and slicker cap. “Yes, professionally trained in a vault. I’m also an engineer, specializing in Pip-Boy tech.” She lifted up her arm to show off her own. She’d already mentally noted Rizzo’s Pip-Boy (Mark IV, fancy stuff). “But after eleven years in the Wastes, I know my way around a robot and some plumbing.”

The stranger with the slicker hat had a ghost of a smile on his face. “Useful on the road, I bet.”

“What’s useful? Who are these people?” Butch inquired, coming up from behind her. His hand was on his gun and there was a scowl on his face. 

“Cool it, Butch. You remember Mayor MacCready? Here he is, all grown.” She motioned to the kid, who was looking at Butch with a familiar smile.

“Oh gosh! Good to see you, squirt! Hot damn, but it’s been a long time.” Butch shook the man’s hand. “Who’s the chick and the weirdo?”

Lucy-Jane looked to the sky, as if she could just ask God to shove some manners up her boyfriend’s ass. The prayer didn’t work and she cursed herself for not going to chapel with Dad when she was younger.

“Rizzo,” she said, gesturing towards the woman. “And… sorry, I didn’t get your name?”

“Deacon. Looking forward to working with you, by the way. Heard that story about you and Harkness--interesting stuff. How’d Pinkerton treat you, by the way?”

She couldn’t help but stare. “How--nevermind. He was an ass, but a talented ass so I can’t really complain.” She shook her head. “You’d be damned to find another facial surgeon half as good as him in DC.”

“That guy was a dick,” said Butch eloquently. “But he did get rid of that tattoo. Y’know what I’m talkin’ about, right, Luce? Right above my--”

“ _ Yes, _ Butch. I  _ know _ .”

There was a pause in the conversation where Lucy-Jane couldn’t help but stare her fellow Tunnel Snake down. He shrugged at her, flashed a smile, and lit up a cigarette. She turned around to talk to Rizzo again, letting a breath out.

“When will you be able to leave? We should head out before noon if you want to get acquainted with the rest of the team before nightfall.” Rizzo was fiddling with her Pip-Boy while she spoke, then looked up.

“Right now, I guess. Butch, you get everything all packed up?”

“Yup. Bessie’s all rarin’ to go.”

“Bessie?”

Butch blushed, coughed into his fist. “Yeah, the brahmin.”

Fondly smiling at her boyfriend’s change of heart, Lucy-Jane looked at Rizzo and said, “Let’s go.”

\--

Charon watched the tall human woman, the softness of her gaze and the grace of her steps. He couldn’t see her mouth beneath the bright blue bandana but he imagined her lips were a gentle curve, like a sideways moon. So different from his Lucy, yet so similar.

While Rizzo was hard curves and a compassionate aura, his Lucy was small, angular, and had a face marred with frown lines. But they had a similar way of carrying themselves--the muscular thighs and biceps, the confident protruding breastbone. The delicate touches each woman gifted her companions. Because surely it was a gift. Charon’s stomach loosened when his Lucy graced his hand with a glancing stroke, and the sniper’s blue eyes dilated when Rizzo squeezed his shoulder.

The bodyguard let the group walk ahead of him, keeping his milky eyes peeled for danger. It had been a very long time since Charon had been in the Commonwealth, not since pre-war. And even then it had been a brief Boston vacation as a seven-year-old child. So he felt every bone in his body put on edge.

He didn’t jolt as the brahmin let out a furious squawk, but he saw Butch jump nearly a foot off the ground. His face went all red in his charming way. Charon didn’t smile with his lips, but when Butch looked back and met his gaze, he didn’t grimace. For Charon, that was about as good as he could manage. In any case, it seemed to calm the man down.

The man in the raincap was staring at his Lucy, Charon knew. He could sense his gaze, even though he was wearing dark-tinted sunglasses. Maybe he thought he was being stealthy, but Charon had been a bodyguard long enough to know when his employer had garnered attention. It could jeopardize his contract if he didn’t.

_ But _ , he thought,  _ I would do my best to protect my ward even if the contract didn’t exist. _

And how weird it was to have those thoughts, dreams of freedom. His Lucy had reawoken a spark in him. She was angry at the contract, a factor in Charon’s life he had long since yielded to, and over the years he felt that old part of him--his hardihood--toughen once more. He was becoming as stubborn as his Lucy.

Up ahead Rizzo paused, and Charon recognized the tension in her shoulderblades. She crouched behind the rubble of a crumbled overpass, motioning for the rest of the group to also find cover. She drew one of her pistols, a beautiful slender, silenced 10mm. She looked at the sniper, MacCready, and he cocked his rifle and nodded. He pulled the brim of his hat down to shield his eyes from the bright sun.

Charon looked over at his Lucy, who met his eye. “Brotherhood,” she said quietly.

He was not fond of the Brotherhood. Even before that Maxson zealot had taken over they were horribly biased against ghouls, shooting on sight. Sometimes Charon got the feeling that people ignored that part of their history, instead focusing on how they handled the super mutants in DC, Liberty Prime’s assault on the Jefferson Memorial, or Sentinel Lyons’s successful stint as Elder. Charon was glad that his Lucy got out of the organization while she still could.

Rizzo took this as an opportunity to teach his Lucy about her new job, whatever it was. “This is part of the gig. Heavies sometimes need to clear patrols, or take out Brotherhood Vertibirds. I don’t have any idea why there are any of them left in the Commonwealth, but we can’t have them hurting innocent synths and ghouls.” She crouched down, and the air flickered where she used to be. “Deacon, stay close to me. MacCready, do what you do best.” Deacon put on a stealth boy and disappeared like Rizzo had. “Let’s see what you and your boys can do, Lucy-Jane.”

MacCready got close to the ground, focusing through the lense of the scope. 

Butch turned to Lucy. “Plan?”

“Charon on point. Butch, try to flank them. Hit them hard and heavy, aim for the heads. Need me to hold your hand, too?” Charon huffed out a laugh. His Lucy always got prickly when they were in combat. Well, she was prickly most of the time, if he was completely honest.

He heard firing, and saw MacCready take his first shot. “Let’s go.”

Charon hopped up off his knees, charging the closest enemy, a Knight out of power armour. He aimed, shot. The man’s head exploded off his shoulders. Butch ran over the hill, shooting a Scribe in the back with his pistol. He felt his Lucy’s presence beside him, watching as she pumped a Paladin’s power armour full of bullets, her combat armour protecting her from the laser rifle fire. Charon bashed the butt of his shotgun into the junction between the suit’s head and neck, over and over until the Paladin collapsed in a blood-soaked heap on the ground.

Kicking the body out of the way, Charon saw as Deacon’s stealth boy depleted and he came back into view in the middle of the field (the man was focused on providing covering fire for Rizzo as she popped a Knight and Scribe in the skull in quick succession). A suited Knight saw this as well, turning her gatling laser in his direction. As he was the closest, Charon took a shot--missed. Reloaded, aimed. The pellets grazed the woman’s neck, and she collapsed in pain and shock, but managed to get her weapon charged. With another shell in the chamber of his gun, the ghoul took a breath and watched as her eyes opened wide in shock, blood spewing from the large hole in her neck. Charon was behind her, listening to her dying gurgles. 

The fight was over, and his Lucy was looking amongst the group to see if anyone was injured. The Knight’s gatling laser shot automatically, burning a crater into the tarmac until the fusion core ran out of energy.

Beginning the standard work of searching the bodies, Charon pocketing all the ammo and caps he found, as well as other small valuables that his Lucy might want later. He noticed Rizzo had a handful of holotags, and was cutting them off the corpses’ necks with a serrated knife. She caught him looking, and shrugged. 

“If I can, I’d like to send them back to the Capital so they know their casualties. And if I never end up doing that, then I guess I can always melt them down and make something with them.”

“Leave the dead where they lie,” Charon said, his voice low and even, though his heart was still pounding from the excitement of a fight. “The Brotherhood is our enemy--they deserve shallow graves.”

He turned away from her before she could register what he’d said, handing his caps to his Lucy, who counted them with a little grin on her lips. 

“Quite the turnout, darling,” she boasted, fingers leaving warm trails on his lower arms, tracing the bumpy skin of his wrist. Butch came up behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Man, you wrecked shop today, man! How many’d you get?”

“Three, one with Lucy’s assistance.” 

“Aw, man. I just got one, and it was just a fucking Scribe.” Butch sighed, disappointedly. “But! Lookie-lookie at what I got!” He pulled out a necklace, shiny and gold, encrusted with diamonds and rubies. It was a locket, heart-shaped. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

Lucy reached out for it and Butch roughhoused a bit, but eventually handed it over, goofy crooked grin teasing. She popped the locket open, shimmering in her dirty hands. “It’s engraved. ‘ _ Agape,  _ _ Éros, Philia, Storge _ . -Francis’. What does  _ that _ mean?” She peered up at him, craning her neck. “Does that sound like Latin to you?”

Charon shrugged. “I know that. The four types of love. Tulip liked this kind’ve stuff, back in Underworld.”

She hummed, settling the glittery jewelry around her neck, tucking it into her shirt for safe keeping. “Well, that’s oddly sweet. You think someone would pay a lot for something like this?”

Charon and Butch both nodded, and the trio made their way over to the other group, who were trading ammo and wiping blood off their weapons. Butch jogged over to where they’d left Bessie and brought the brahmin over. 

Regrouped, the party made their way to Headquarters, sun heavy on their sweaty backs.

\--

Butch was tired of walking. They’d spent a month making their way from the Capital Wasteland up to the Commonwealth for reasons Luce wouldn’t share. Not that Butch was complaining, of course! DC was getting dull, and he was pretty pleased with the Commonwealth so far--the colourful buildings and new accents and  _ trees _ . A change in scenery was welcome. He just wished they could’ve stayed at Bunker Hill a while longer before they were off to wherever-the-hell.

At least he got a good view of Luce’s ass. Rizzo had stuck him at the back of the group with Bessie and MacCready, while that weirdo Deacon and her took point. Charon was a fucking mountain next to their girl, his stiff posture as unnerving as usual. From behind Luce, he could see the frizz of her red hair escaping that dusty old fedora she wore. She’d ask him to cut it soon, he knew. Long hair was dangerous.

When the group stopped at a church, he raised an eyebrow in confusion. “We here to pray the blisters away?” he asked, crossing his arms when Luce shot him a glare. “What?”

“Shut up, Butch.”

He threw his hands up, but did as he was told. Sleeping on the floor hurt his back, and he knew Luce had no qualms with sticking him in the proverbial doghouse. He stuffed his hands in his jacket’s pockets and looked at Bessie.

“What are we gonna do with Bessie?” he asked, noticing that the group was intending to go inside the creepy-ass church. 

“Bring her inside,” Deacon said. “We’ll send someone up to take care of her.”

“Wait, you saying there’s  _ people _ living here?” 

Deacon looked at Rizzo, who shrugged. “Lucy-Jane, you planning on telling your boys about what’s going on finally?” 

Luce scuffed her boot against the cobblestone. “When we’re inside.”

Butch perked up a bit, excited to  _ finally  _ know what the hell Luce had been keeping from him and Charon for so long. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she had a big secret. For how long he didn’t know, but it seemed now it had been for a long time, maybe years. And now he’d finally know for sure. 

The inside of the church was even more decrepit than the exterior. Old balconies had collapsed to the floor, pews scattered all over the place. Rizzo led them down a tight hall and down some stairs (after Butch had tied Bessie up to a post). Then they were in crypts. There were no lights, so Rizzo, Luce and he turned on the light on their Pip-Boys. Everything was glowing an eerie green as a result, making Butch’s spine tingle.  

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Butch cursed, just as they passed a pile of decomposing ferals. “Are we gonna get murdered down here?” 

“Maybe,” Deacon said, and though he thought it was a joke he still wasn’t sure if the man was serious or not. He glared at the back of the man’s shiny bald head beneath that ugly-ass hat of his. 

They came to a stop at the end of a hallway, and Rizzo did something weird to circular plates on the wall. When a hidden door opened, Butch tried not to look impressed. God, this was so noir! 

Inside was a large room, and a door Rizzo knocked on with an apparent code. The door cracked open, revealing a younger man in a blue coat. “What’s the password?” he said lowly, before cracking up. “Good to see you, Charmer! Deacon, what’s happening?”

Deacon clapped the kid on the shoulder, smiling. “Brought the fresh meat. Check her out.”

The boy looked confused, then his gaze settled on Luce, and a big grin spread across his face. “Wow! Agent Serpent in the flesh! Heard lots about you. Best catcher we’ve ever had, hands down!” He reached forwards and shook Luce’s hand with both of his own, enthusiastic. “Come in, come in! I’m Drummer Boy, dead drops.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Drummer Boy.”

The group was ushered into another room, this one bigger and better lit. And full of people of all shapes and sizes. There were a couple people filling out what appeared to be paperwork, some crashing in musty mattresses haphazardly thrown across the crypt. Off to the side a couple people were typing at terminals. There was a man in a lab coat eyeing their group up with a sour expression.

They were lead to the center of the room, where a stern-looking woman greeted Luce with a firm handshake. “Serpent, nice to finally meet you. Glad you received our correspondence.”

“Came as soon as I could. Had a few loose ends to tie, but I’m here to help as soon as I can.” She paused, looking at Butch and Charon sheepishly. “These are my companions. Hope it won’t be an issue having them here.”

“As do I,” said Lab Coat, who had made his way over. “Desdemona, we cannot afford to have even more outsiders allowed knowledge of our Headquarters.”

The woman--Desdemona--nodded. “Doctor, I’d agree but it seems a bit late to be complaining. As long as your friends can keep a secret, the Railroad would be glad to have their aid. We don’t have the resources to take on more agents at the moment, but I’m sure ‘tourist’ is position enough.”

Luce agreed. 

“What’s happening here? Railroad? Serpent? Luce, is this some sort of secret agency thing?” Butch asked, honestly confused.

Luce glanced at him. “Yes, Butch. This is the Railroad, an organization dedicated to saving synths from the Institute--and Brotherhood, I suppose.”

“The fuck is a synth--wait, no. How  _ long  _ have you been a part of this? You’re making it sound like it’s been a while…”

“Eleven years.”

Butch needed to sit down. He’d known the girl his entire fucking life, had never kept a secret from her… okay, had never kept a secret  _ this big  _ from her, and then it turns out she’s in an underground organization across a couple states from the Capital Wasteland. 

He collapsed into a creaky chair, glancing tiredly at Charon. “You know about this, big guy?”

Charon was looking at Luce with his flat blue eyes, but Butch could tell he was bothered by the whole thing. You don’t hang with a guy--share a girlfriend with a guy--for a decade and not learn to read him, even a little. 

“No. I didn’t.”

Luce had her back turned to the both of them, shoulders hunched up to her ears. She’d taken her hat off, running her small fingers through her messy hair. Butch knew she was probably gnawing at her lips, a nervous habit of hers. 

He hadn’t noticed he had pulled out Toothpick and was flicking the blade in his hand until he slipped it back into his pocket. Sighing and standing back up on jelly legs, Butch muttered, “The shit I put up with for this broad…”

She turned around to look at him with those big brown eyes of hers. “Are you… okay with this?”

Butch scoffed. “Ain’t like I got a choice either way, yeah? And the way I figure, this way I can still catch some tail, eh?” He winked at the short woman, who rolled her eyes, but flashed him a grateful smile. Luce was a tough son-of-a-bitch, but she cared about him. And his opinion of her.

“Ew,” he heard MacCready say behind him. “Didn’t want  _ that _ mental image.”

Butch was tempted to clap his ear for that, but restrained himself. MacCready’s girl looked like she could eat him for breakfast, and he wasn’t about to piss off a mama bear. He just glared at the kid instead.

Charon had remained quiet. When Luce looked at him with the puppydog eyes Butch knew the ghoul couldn’t resist. He nodded solemnly, and let her grip his hand. 

Desdemona had a fond little smile on her weathered face. She was what Luce would call a ‘handsome woman,’ with wise-looking eyes and a confident, leaderly posture. 

The doctor cut in with, “Between Charmer and Serpent, we won’t have any more secrets. May as well put an ad up in Diamond City.”

Deacon snorted.  _ “‘Come by Old North Church if you want to see the most functional ragtag group of misfits in the ‘Wealth.’” _

Butch couldn’t see Rizzo’s mouth from behind that bandana of hers, but her eyes smiled and shoulders rolled with silent laughter. 

Desdemona turned to look at Luce. “Your companions will need codenames, just in case.”

“Hell yeah!” Butch exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. “Bad. Ass.” He immediately went through the list he’d kept in his head since he was a kid, for just such an occasion. “How about ‘Anaconda?’ Nah, too long… ‘Dragon.’ Too pretentious. ‘Barber.’ No, no, no…”

He was getting stares. Butch preened at the attention. 

“Babe, you wanna think with your inside voice?” Luce suggested, squawking when he ruffled her messy red hair. 

“Yak it up, pipsqueak. Hey! ‘Viper!’ ” 

“Can I ask?” Rizzo started. “What’s with the snake theme?”

Butch grinned. “We are just in the  _ coolest  _ gang in all of DC. The Tunnel Snakes! We ride together, we die together. You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. Live on forever in the hearts of the Wasteland’s people--”

“Jesus, Butch, I think they get it!” Luce exclaimed, flustered.

“I mean,” said MacCready, “the Tunnel Snakes  _ do  _ rule.”

Rizzo’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious, Mac? This is what you’ve been referencing? God, what kind of small world…”

“And you?” Desdemona asked Charon, ignoring the conversation. 

“Cerberus.”

Before Butch could comment, Desdemona wrote their names down on the board, beneath ‘Charmer’ and two names that had been cross out.

“Who’s Glory?” he asked, then immediately regretted it. A hush fell over the room, and people stared. “Why’s her name crossed off?”

Deacon shuffled over to him, looking at the names. “Glory was a heavy agent, like Charmer. Like Serpent’s going to be. Brotherhood invaded HQ, killed a ton of our agents. Glory was one of them.” His tone was light, but there was something sinister beneath it. “This job is dangerous. By signing up with us you’re putting your life on the line for the synths.”

Butch squirmed under the room’s gaze. “Well,” he said, “everything in the Waste is fucking dangerous. May as well do some good, I guess.”

But even as he said it, Butch’s gut clenched in anxiety.  _ If this is what does Luce in, I’ll fucking kill her. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a lot more confident in writing Butch than I am Charon, and any criticism is completely welcome!
> 
> I don't think MacCready will be around for much longer. He'll probably head back to Sanctuary soon or something. I just really wanted him to interact with Team Serpent again haha
> 
> Next chapter's pretty short, so it'll be up pretty soon I think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy-Jane acquaints herself with Carrington and Dez, and learns more about Glory.

Lucy-Jane wasn't sure what to think about HQ.  _ These  _ were the people she'd been working for over an entire decade? There was Tinker Tom with that flashlight strapped to his head and skittish bloodshot eyes. The sweet smell of Jet came off his stained overalls in waves.

The grumpy doctor, Carrington, didn't seem too eager to have Lucy-Jane there, not after she'd brought Butch and Charon in with her. He eased up a bit when he found out that she was a doctor too. “Finally,” he'd said, “someone to bounce ideas off of,” and proceeded to go on a tirade about the effects teleportation had on the molecules making up the human body. “How did the Institute figure out how to teleport someone without scrambling their DNA?”

Lucy-Jane, after pondering, replied with, “Maybe there isn’t any actual teleportation involved. Maybe you gentic code is ‘uploaded’ into new molecules.”

His eyes had gotten wide at that, and he exclaimed, “A perfect clone!” The doctor and Tinker Tom scrambled to write down the hypothesis.

When Lucy-Jane was finally able to speak with Desdemona alone, the woman looked tired as hell, but satisfied. 

“I think you’ll be a good fit to the team.”

“Hope so.”

Desdemona took a sip of her coffee, winced at the taste, and set it back down. “Deacon speaks highly of you, as does Charmer. He was acting as though you’d met before.”

Lucy-Jane shook her head. “Not like I would know if I had, right?” She glanced across the crypt and met Deacon’s stare. Narrowing her eyes, Lucy-Jane adjusted one of her fingerless gloves.

Desdemona chuckled. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Lucy-Jane examined Desdemona, her carrot-coloured hair and harsh wrinkled face. There was chalk dusting her fingertips from when she’d written the new aliases on the chalkboard.

And despite how proud it made her to see the list filled in with more names than Deacon and Charmer’s, Lucy-Jane felt a hollowness inside her at the names that were scribbled out.  _ Glory and Tommy W. _

One of the caskets, sealed off tightly, had pressed white lilies lying on top, and a small wooden sign with Glory’s name painted in red. Looking at it, Lucy-Jane let her fingers brush the grave marker.

“Tell me more about her.”

“Not much to tell. Wouldn’t be able to do her memory justice with words. Everything we’re fighting for is represented in Glory’s life. She was so full of hope for the future. She wanted a world where everyone was equal and her people weren’t treated like mindless, opinionless machines. And the Brotherhood slaughtered her like an animal.” Desdemona touched a lily, twirling it between her fingers. “She was a great agent, a proud synth, and a close friend.” Her voice trailed off, tired.

Lucy-Jane retracted her hand for a moment, then pressed it fully to the cold stone casket. Dead didn’t often receive such respect in the Wasteland, and seeing such a beautiful memorial made Lucy-Jane’s heart swell. For whatever reason the woman thought about her parents. Dad had sacrificed himself for something so good, so undeniably meaningful and Lucy-Jane didn’t even know had happened to his remains. And her mother… She’d never met her. She taken her life and never met her.

(Lucy-Jane remembered Autumn’s smug look, the blood vessels showing in the whites of his mad eyes. The way his nose felt as it collapsed beneath her fist. She remembered Sentinel Lyon and Charon having to pull her off his ravaged corpse. She’d still sometimes wake up and see her hands raw and bloody, taste iron and radiation in the air, and was suddenly back cradled against Charon’s broad chest while she hyperventilated, a dead man at her feet. Lucy-Jane didn’t sleep much anymore.)

“You will be missed,” Lucy-Jane said to Glory, but also to Dad and her mother. “Your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.”

Gritting her teeth and blinking away tears, Lucy-Jane looked to Desdemona again, whose weary face held a solid dose of curiosity.

“What’s my first assignment?”


End file.
